


Vengeance, Swift and Terrible

by silverbirch



Category: Young Wizards - Diane Duane
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-15
Updated: 2017-03-15
Packaged: 2018-10-05 13:41:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 415
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10309361
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/silverbirch/pseuds/silverbirch
Summary: Wherein two men learn an important lesson about the care of exotic birds.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Contains **spoilers** for the end of _High Wizardry_. However, since (a) that book came out ten thousand goddamn years ago, presumably on tablets covered in cuneiform, and (b) if you have not read _High Wizardry_ you are a villain, and a brigand, and undeserving of this courtesy, I'm not sure why I'm bothering to disclaim. Still. Spoilers.
> 
> Please forgive me, Gods of Fandom, for this silly thing I have written.

It was a usual afternoon in the Swale household; Tom was reading on the couch, Carl had his hands on his hips and was talking about redecorating the kitchen. Again.

“I'm thinking a textile,” Carl mused, fingers itching for sorcery.

“In a kitchen,” Tom said flatly, not looking up “where we make sauce. Sauces. Chocolate sauces.”

“Something kind of like...Indo-European," Carl said. Tom wasn't as up on interior design, but he was almost positive that combination of words meant absolutely nothing.

“Do they make textiles that look better spattered with bacon grease?” Tom asked, innocence itself. Only in his mind did he add  _you beautiful idiot._

“You're being tiresome about this.”

Tom thought many things in response to that, including something along the line of that it would take a pair of walking pubescent atom bombs reading from _The Book of Night With Moon_ to change his basic nature at the subatomic level to make him care, even a little bit, about goddamn redoing the goddamn kitchen for the ninth goddamn time.

He didn't get the chance, though, since reality bent, twisted, and finally tore open.

A Figure appeared, all aglow with cosmic majesty. In the figure was Athena, and Isis, Guan-yinn and Freya, glowing with power and purpose, with gentleness and wrath combined. In one hand, white as lilies and fire, It held a glowing spear.

“Uh, hello,” Tom said, not looking up from his book, scratching his stomach. Carl, bless his dear self, was still frowning at a huge tray of tile samples he'd magicked in from...somewhere.

“Hello...” the glowing figure said, the perfect and deadly lines of its face settling into something stern and forbidding. “... _boys.”_

Carl glanced up, blinking. _“Peach?”_

Come to think of it, the voice did sound somewhat familiar.

“Oh yes,” Peach said, raising up one hand; Carl floated off the ground, tile sample (Navajo White, #34304b) in hand. In Tom's case, Peach got the couch too.

“It's...nice to see you back!” Tom said, coughing “how're the kids?”

“Fine. Whatever. I'm not here to talk about that,” Peach said, voice like the clanging of an infinity of bells.

“So...why...”

“I am _here_ ,” Peach said with a grin “to talk to you about things. Things like... _responsible pet ownership._ ”

“Well, shit,” Tom said.

Carl sighed.

All in all, it wasn't that bad. Half of Tom's mustache was burned off in the explosion, and it _did_ give Carl a chance to redo the living room, as well.


End file.
